A RWBY Christmas Carol
by Bryan C. Laesch
Summary: Ebenezer Ozpin is one of the biggest misers in all of Vale. He turns his nose up at the needy, sneers at those collecting donations, and wants absolutely nothing to do with Christmas. Little does he know, he's destined for a grim end, until the ghost of Jacob Ironwood visits him and tells him how he may be saved.
1. Stave I

Ironwood was dead, to begin with. As dead as a doornail. The only person who mourned his passing and succeeded him in his work was his business partner, Ebenezer Ozpin. He and Ironwood had been friends though, in the shallowest of terms, on the basest of levels. Ozpin not being disturbed at Ironwood's passing was proof of this. He honored him because no one else would. But once the funeral was over, Ozpin went back to his life and forgot Ironwood for he was dead.

Despite his callous response to Ironwood's death, Ozpin didn't bother to paint over the sign that stood over the establishment known as Ironwood & Ozpin. He knew that with time, the weather would take it off. That option was cheap, and Ozpin was a patient man except when it came to those who were late paying their commissions. Upon them he exacted no mercy and didn't care if the Grimm would eventually eat up settlers who couldn't afford to pay for the huntsmen that Ozpin sourced.

When it came to business, Ozpin was a squeezing, wrenching, clutching, apathetic, old miser. He was hard, and sharp as flint. And not much more could be said for his personal life other than he was secret, self-contained, and as solitary as an oyster. His critics said he could've made a summer home of Mantle for his personality was chillier than the tundra and didn't warm a degree at any time of the year, not even for that jolliest of feasts, Christmas.

Ozpin entered his office, the one thing he kept colder than himself and saw his clerk, Taiyang Cratchit, trying to keep his ink liquid by cupping his hands around his inkwell lest it should freeze. Taiyang was a strapping man of middle age, married with two daughters. He was better suited to work as a huntsman, but for the sake of his family, he had chosen to become Ozpin's clerk which paid barely better than that as one of the sourced huntsmen, but for the sake of his family, Tai would do anything.

Ozpin didn't bother to greet Tai or give an explanation of his whereabouts. What Ozpin did when he was away on business was his business, and Tai's business was to work on the ledgers. Ozpin merely pulled off his great coat and hung it up before going to his desk and beginning his work.

While it was easy to assume Ozpin had no light or warmth in his life, that assumption would be false because there was one source in the form of his nephew Qrow who bounded through the door at that very minute. "Merry Christmas, uncle!" he said in a whisky voice. "Gods save you!"

Ozpin looked up over the rim of his glasses. "Bah! Humbug!"

"Christmas a humbug?" said Qrow. "Surely you don't mean that, uncle."

"I'm sure I do. What right do I have to be merry at Christmas? What right do you have? There's nothing so repulsive in this world as being poor, and yet people fritter their money away on goods they can't afford every year at this time. And then they complain when they can't afford to pay the huntsmen I hire out. So, I ask you, nephew, what reason do you have to be merry at Christmas? You're poor enough."

"By that logic, uncle, what reason do you have to be miserable? You're rich enough. Right be damned!"

"Humbug nonetheless!"

"Oh, don't be cross, uncle. I came to share the spirits of good cheer of the season with you."

"Good cheer? Humbug! Everyone is in a good cheer at this time of year only to find themselves a year older and not an hour richer. If I could work my will, every idiot that went around with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips would be boiled with his pudding and fed to the Grimm!"

"Uncle!" said Qrow, taking a step back.

"You keep Christmas in your way, Qrow, and I'll keep it in mine."

"But you don't keep it."

"Then let me leave it alone all the same."

"While it is true that Christmas has never put any spare lien in my pocket, I believe it has done me good, will do me good, and I say, Gods bless it!"

Tai applauded.

"You're one to speak, Cratchit," said Ozpin. "With as little as you make, it's a wonder you're able to celebrate anything."

Tai returned to his work.

"You shouldn't abuse Tai like that, uncle. Please don't be cross with him for agreeing with me. I know! Why don't you come and have Christmas dinner with me and Winter tomorrow?"

"Why ever did you get married?"

"Why? Because I fell in love."

Ozpin cackled. "That's the only thing sillier than a 'Merry Christmas.' Good afternoon."

Qrow's face fell. "I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I will keep making the trial for the sake of my Christmas humor. So a Merry Christmas, uncle! And a Happy New Year!"

"Merry Christmas," said Tai.

"Merry Christmas," replied Qrow. "And give my best to your wife and daughters," he said, exiting.

"Humbug," muttered Ozpin under his breath at his nephew's departure.

With Qrow and the stench of his whisky gone, Ozpin settled into his bookkeeping as his office door once more opened. In stepped two Faunus; one was a gigantic male, at least twice as tall and wide as the normal man, and the other was a woman much shorter and smaller than he. Both were cats as indicated by his claws and her cat ears.

"Mr. Ironwood, I presume," said the male Faunus in a deep gruff voice.

"Ironwood is dead," corrected Ozpin. "He's been dead these seven Christmas Eves ago."

"Oh. We're terribly sad to hear that," said the woman.

"Why? Are you relatives?"

The two Faunus looked at each other. "No," said the man.

"Then what's your business with me?"

"Let me introduce myself. I am Ghira Belladonna. This is my wife Kali. At this festive time of year, it is more than usually desirable that we make some provision for the poor and underprivileged who suffer greatly during this time of year. Many are in want of common necessities."

"Some of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and some means of warmth," explained Kali.

"We choose this time of year because it is often a time when want is keenly felt and abundance rejoices."

"I'm sure Mr. Ironwood's liberality and charity is well represented in his surviving partner," prodded Kali with a smile. "What shall we put you down for?"

Ozpin sneered. "Are there no prisons?"

Kali and Ghira exchanged looks. "Plenty of prisons, sir," replied Ghira.

"And the workhouses? Are they still in operation?"

"They are indeed," explained Kali grieved. "I wish I could say they were not."

"Oh, good," said Ozpin. "I was afraid from what you said something had happened to them to stop them in their useful purpose."

"If you please, sir," begged Kali. "They are not fit to furnish cheer of mind or body to the multitude. So, what may we put you down for?"

"Nothing."

Ghira and Kali's eyes shifted until Ghira had a thought. "Ah, you wish to remain anonymous?"

"I wish to be left alone! I don't make myself merry at Christmas and I cannot afford to make idle people merry. I support the establishments I have mentioned through my taxes. Those who are badly off must go there."

"But many can't go there," said Ghira.

"Many would rather die!" said Kali.

"If they would rather die, then they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population! Good afternoon!"

Ghira and Kali recoiled; Ghira was in shock, but Kali was wholly offended. "You sir are the most odious person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! Why, if my own daughter had to live out in this, I would do everything in my power to shield her from it!"

"Thus is your business," replied Ozpin. "Not mine."

Seeing that the cause was lost, Ghira and Kali withdrew though Kali's curses could be heard from outside the office.

Ozpin believed himself rid of all the foolishness of the day for his patience had been worn to its fullest extent. He thought he could finally get some work down when two voices singing a chorus of "Good, Wise King of Vale" reached his ears. "What the devil…?"

Ozpin crossed to his front door and ripped it open. There he found two street urchins. Both were Faunus, a young male with a monkey tail and a young female with cat ears. "What do you want?!" he growled to the two.

"Please, sir," said the cat Faunus, "Christmas blessings upon you and your business."

"And all the more blessings for offering us a few lien!" said the monkey-tailed one, holding up his hands.

"Begone!" Ozpin roared, drawing his cane. He swung it with all his might, but the two Faunus managed to dodge it, one leaving behind a shadow copy of herself.

"Whoa!" said the lad. "What a dusty, old miser!"

"We're just looking for some goodwill!" said the lass.

"Yeah! A pox on you!"

Ozpin growled, "A pox on Christmas!" before closing the door. Ozpin sighed and returned to his desk where for several hours he was able to get some real work done.

Eventually, the hour to close for the night arrived. Ozpin left his chair and opened his safe to move all the lien he had been counting into it. "Cratchit!" he called. "It's closing time. Come here and get your week's wages."

Tai bounded out of his desk, snuffing his candle with his finger and putting his hat on before presenting himself to Ozpin.

As Ozpin counted out his lien, he said with a growl, "I suppose you'll want all day off tomorrow."

"If it's convenient, sir."

"No, it is not convenient, sir. And it's not fair, but if I was to stop fifteen hundred lien for it, you'd think yourself abused, wouldn't you? And yet, you don't think me abused for paying a day's wages for no work."

"It's only once a day, sir."

"That's a poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December. Fortunately for you, all other business will be closed and I don't want to waste the money on coal and candles to open for a day where we won't get anything done. Take the whole day, but be here all the earlier the next morning!"

"Yes, sir. I will."

"Good." Ozpin gave Tai his pay and swept on his overcoat before leaving.

Tai almost jumped for joy. He rarely had any days off, so having one meant the world to him especially when it meant he got to share it with his beautiful wife and daughters. He almost skipped home, but for his cargo shorts, he was forced to run to beat the cold from consuming him.

Ozpin stopped at a dank, old tavern for a dank, old dinner before heading home. His house, inherited from Ironwood, was far and tucked away from the vulgar and common streets of Vale. There was nothing particularly special about the street Ozpin lived on except for the unimaginable darkness of it matched the environment of his heart.

Approaching his home, Ozpin went to the door to unlock it and found his attention drawn to the knocker. There was nothing peculiar about it except its size and the fact that it now resembled Ironwood's face. The face was not angry or sad, but looked exactly as Ozpin remembered Ironwood: a hard, square face with little blue eyes and stress marks along his cheeks and below his eyes. His hair was dark and combed over on top and grey and short on the sides. Ironwood had had a face more akin to an army general than a businessman and that was the face Ozpin saw. It even had Ironwood's neurotransmitter above his right eyebrow that helped him to control the cybernetic half of his body, a detail Ozpin often forgot. But besides the unpleasant vision of seeing a face of a man long dead, the face possessed a horrible color that seemed to be in spite of its expression and beyond its control rather than a part of it.

As Ozpin stared, the face disappeared with a faint, "Oz…" in Ironwood's deep voice. Though Ozpin was not a man of superstitions or of legends, the phenomenon did spook him enough to enter his house as quickly as possible, lock the door, and then proceed to search his rooms. Ozpin looked through every room in the pitch black; darkness was cheap and he liked it. His old huntsman senses were also attuned to the darkness and allowed him to ambush any unsuspecting fellow, but as he crept around, cane raised, he found no sign of anybody having been there. All was well.

Satisfied with his search, Ozpin retired to his quarters where he double bolted the door to arm himself against surprise and changed into his dressing gown and slippers. He sat close to his fireplace so it could warm him without using too much fuel on such a bitter night. Ozpin sank into his chair and drank a mug of hot chocolate, one of the few pleasures in his miserable life.

As Ozpin sat, he heard a faint twinkle. His head went up and his eyes fell upon an old bell hanging in his room for some long-forgotten purpose. Once his gaze fell upon it, it stopped ringing. Ozpin's eyes narrowed, and he went back to his hot chocolate. But then, the bell started ringing again with more vigor. Ozpin turned his head up and was forced to see it ring without provocation. Once it stopped, he proclaimed "Humbug!" in a louder than needed voice.

He returned to his hot chocolate, but found his hand shaking. He had to use his other hand to hold his first still. But as the mug reached his lips, the bell started ringing again with even more fervor. Ozpin's color changed and his lip trembled. He didn't know how long the bell rang for, but he would have traded anything to have it ring rather than have it be succeeded by the sound that came next, that of clinking chains.

Ozpin could hear the chains clatter from his ground floor and move up his stairwell accompanied by a heavy foot and the clanging of metallic objects. The sounds reached his door, and Ozpin stood, drawing his cane. "It's humbug! I won't believe it!" But Ozpin had great difficulty convincing himself when without pause a grey shape walked through the door in the visage of Ironwood.

"Ironwood's ghost?!"

The spectre appeared to Ozpin exactly as he remembered Ironwood. He wore an overcoat, undercoat, sweater, necktie, long pants tucked into his boots and one glove on his right hand. But there were two major differences between this Ironwood and the one Ozpin remembered: this one was a solid grey color, and cinched around his waist, wrapped around him like a tail, was a great chain from which hung lockboxes, keys, padlocks, and ledgers.

Though Ozpin was scared, to now see what haunted him, he couldn't believe it with his own eyes. He lowered his cane. "What do you want?" he said after a pause.

"Much," replied the shade.

"Who are you?"

"Ask me who I was, Oz."

"Who were you then?"

"In life, I was your partner, Jacob Ironwood."

Ozpin gripped his cane tightly. "Can you sit down?"

"I can."

"Do it, then!" demanded Ozpin, taking his chair.

The ghost walked to the fire place, making enough noise to wake the dead with every step. He drew a chair next to him, but rather than sit in, he sat beside it in open air. Ozpin stared, but then cleared his throat.

"You don't believe in me," said the ghost.

"I don't."

"Why do you do doubt your senses?"

"Because," began Ozpin, "a little thing can affect them—make them cheat. I've had a slight stomach disorder of late. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. Aye, there's more of gravy than a grave about you!"

The ghost inhaled sharply and rose into the air. With a great wail it grabbed a part of its chain with each hand and beat the objects together several times.

Ozpin fell upon his knees, holding up his hands, and screaming out of fright.

"Do you believe in me now?!"

"I do, I do. I must, but why do you torment me?!"

"It is required of every man," explained the shade, "that the spirit within him should walk among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide. And if that spirit doesn't go forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!"

"That terrible chain!" said Ozpin. "Why do you wear it?"

"I _wear_ the chain I forged in life," said the ghost. "I made it link by link and yard by yard. I forged it through my choices and it is by my choice that I wore it. You should know of what I speak. You yourself wear a chain so ponderous and mighty that it is as heavy and as long as these seven Christmas Eves ago."

"Jacob!" said Ozpin, trembling. "Speak comfort to me, Jacob. Speak comfort to me!"

"I have none to give. Comfort comes from others and is conveyed by other ministers to other kinds of men than you. Nor can I tell what I would like. I'm only allowed a little more. All I can say is that I cannot rest in the afterlife as my spirit never walked beyond the narrow limits of our office.

"Oh, captive, bound, and double-ironed not to know that ages of incessant labor that this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible can be developed. Not to know that any spirit working in its little sphere will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Oh, but I was!"

"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," said Ozpin. "That must account for something."

"Business?!" cried the spirit, shaking with fury. "Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"

The spirit looked at its chains, at the lockboxes and keys, with a great regret.

"At this time of year," began the spectre, "I suffer the most. Why did I walk through the crowds with my eyes turned down and never raise them to see what was right before me?! What mercy or lecture had I missed to now suffer this?!"

Ozpin began to quake with fear at the spirits lamentations knowing full well his own blindness.

"Hear me!" cried Ironwood. "My time is nearly up. I am here tonight to warn you that you yet have a chance and hope of escaping my fate; a chance and hope of my procuring, Oz."

"You were always a good friend to me," said Ozpin.

"You will be haunted by three ghosts!"

Ozpin's eyebrows rose and the color drained even further from his face. "Is that the chance and hope you mentioned?"

"It is."

"I-I'd rather not."

"Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first when the bell tolls one."

"Couldn't I take them all at once and be done with it?" begged Ozpin.

"Expect the second when the bell tolls two. The third will arrive in her own time. Look to see me no more, and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!"

"There must be another way," implored Ozpin, raising his arm.

The spirit wrapped its chain around his arm and by some great upheaval, lifted him into the air. The two flew back to the window where it opened itself and allowed them into the chilly night sky as well as some fresh hell. All about Ozpin were phantoms and other shadows wandering hither and thither in useless haste, moaning as they went. All were bound by chains, employed by frightful countenances far worse than any Grimm that walked the face of Remnant. Many of the spectres were known personally to Ozpin. One he saw watched over a wretched woman, sitting in the gutter with a crying infant in her arms. The ghost clung to its safe desperately trying to pry it open but couldn't.

As Ozpin looked on at the horrible sight, by some strange magic unknown to him, he was able to see across Remnant and see even more shades out in the unsettled territories between kingdoms. These looked more like huntsmen and indeed they were as their weapons were clasped to their bodies, unable to be drawn that the huntsmen may slaughter the Grimm preying on the people.

The misery with them all was that they sought to interfere for goodness' sake in human matters, but they had lost the power to do so. Their misery ground Ozpin's mind dull and froze his heart.

Whether these shades faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, Ozpin could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded altogether, and the night became as it had been.

Ozpin found himself, standing next to the window. He quickly shut it. Then he dashed to the door he had seen the ghost enter through; it was whole and unscathed. Ozpin tried to say, "Humbug!" but the word would not come. Thinking it better he should retire to bed, he did so and fell asleep instantly.

 _A RWBY Christmas Carol is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC._


	2. Stave II

On a beautiful day in the summer, students were returning to Beacon Academy after their summer break. Many had already returned and were spending time catching up with their teammates in the cafeteria.

Except for their leader, Team RWBY was sitting at one table all on one side. Across from them at another table was Team JNPR. While Weiss drank a cup of coffee and Yang seemed to be making faces at Nora, Blake had one of her notebooks open. In it, she had doodled pictures of her former White Fang partner Adam Taurus. Ever since the fight at the docks, she had been obsessed with trying to figure out what he was after.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Yang.

"Nothing!" said Blake, quickly shutting her notebook. "Just going over some notes from last semester."

A green grape flew at Yang and she caught in her mouth. She looked back at Blake. "Lame!" Nora catapulted a second grape and Yang caught it again.

It seemed like everything was going to be normal that day until Ruby appeared and slammed a giant white binder on the table. The title of the binder read "Best Day Ever Activities!" in bright red marker. Above that, in a conservative typeface which had been crossed out was "Vytal Festival Activities: Property of Weiss Schnee."

Ruby cleared her throat. To her team, "Sisters!" To JNPR, "Friends!" And then, "Weiss."

"Hey!"

"Four score and seven minutes ago, I had a dream."

"This oughta be good," said Yang, catching a cherry in her mouth.

"A dream that one day, the four of us would come together, as a team, and have the most fun that anyone has ever had… ever!"

"Did you steal my binder?" asked Weiss.

"'I am not a crook'," said Ruby, throwing up a pair of deuces.

Blake asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about kicking this semester off with a bang!"

Yang replied, "I always kick my semesters off with a Yang! Eh? Guys? Am I right?" Suddenly, an apple hit in her face and Nora booed.

Ruby continued, "Look guys, it's been a good two weeks, and between more exchange students arriving and the tournament at the end of the year, our second semester is going to be great. But classes start back up tomorrow. Which is why I've taken the time to schedule a series of wonderful events for us today."

"I don't know whether to be proud or scared of what you have in store," said Weiss.

Yang chucked a green apple back at Nora.

"I don't know," added Blake. "I think I might sit this one out." She had more research to do.

"Sit out or not, I think however we spend this last day, we do it as a team. I for one think—" But then suddenly, pie. It hit someone in the face. That someone was Weiss.

Nora looked at her hand like it wasn't hers. It had betrayed her. How had that cream pie managed to tumble off her fingers so badly that she hit Weiss instead of Yang? Never mind the fact that she completely missed Blake who sat between the two.

The pie slid off Weiss' face leaving her with a whipped cream facial. She shook with anger and embarrassment. She reached for the nearest food object, an apple, and cocked her arm.

Meanwhile, outside the cafeteria, Sun Wukong was with a teammate of his from Team SSSN, Neptune Vasilias. Sun had been telling him all about the fight that had happened at the docks the previous semester. "Man, that's harsh," commented Neptune.

"So then we were there fighting side-by-side," continued Sun. "She was super fast! And then I threw a banana at a guy which sounds gross but it was awesome!"

"Nice!"

"Right? And the best part is, she's a Faunus." Sun raised a hand to his lips in shock. "But that's a secret. I didn't say that! Okay?"

"Got it."

"And not a I'm-going-to-go-tell-Scarlet-the-second-Sun-turns-his-back secret. I'm talking secret-secret."

"Whoa, whoa. Chill out, man, okay? I got it."

Sun eyed him.

Neptune whispered, "I got it."

"You better. I just don't wanna screw this up, you know? The people here are the coolest. No offense to you guys."

"None taken."

Finally, Sun and Neptune reached the cafeteria's entrance.

"Okay," said Sun, "they're right in here. I'm really excited for you to meet them. So, be cool, okay? You're gonna be cool, right?"

"Dude," said Neptune. He stood back and folded his arms. And in his tight pants, slim fit hoodie over collared shirt and tie with his teeth sparkling in the sun, he did cut an impressive figure.

"Good point," admitted Sun.

But as Sun and Neptune entered the cafeteria, an onrush of students exited. Some of them shouted "food fight" and a feminine cackle echoed.

Sun and Neptune saw Team JNPR at the far end of the cafeteria with several tables stacked upon each other. Ren, Jaune, and Pyrrha acted as honor guards protecting Nora who was on the topmost table declaring, "I'm queen of the castle! I'm queen of the castle!"

Team RWBY meanwhile was closest to the entrance with Ruby declaring war on JNPR. "Justice will be swift! Justice will be painful! It will be…" she crushed a milk carton in her hand, "delicious!"

"Yeah!" her team chimed.

"Ha! Off with their heads!" ordered Nora.

JNPR started lobbing watermelons en masse at RWBY.

"Yang!" said Ruby. "Turkeys!"

Yang dashed forward and stuck either fist up a turkey. She banged them together and faced the onslaught of watermelons. They came fast and furious, but no melon could stand up to her Iron Turkey Fist technique. Having smashed them all, she launched them from her fists and hit Jaune full in the body with both.

Pyrrha, witnessing the loss of her teammate and captain, took up a baguette and sought to mete out her vengeance on Blake who had grabbed a pair of baguettes. The two clashed and pushed against each other neither stale loaf giving way.

Pyrrha broke the bind and struck but Blake dodged. There was a flurry of expert French Dough Cuts between the two well-seasoned warriors. Pyrrha made for a wrathful cut, but Blake used a shadow copy to dodge it. From the air, she cast one of her baguettes at Pyrrha and missed.

As Blake fell, Pyrrha surged forward and delivered a Spear Roll Thrust to Blake's gut knocking her back several yards. Pyrrha then threw her baguette as a javelin at Yang. Yang managed to break it and the next, but the third baguette succeeded in knocking her back also.

Ruby advanced in Yang's place sliding among the spilled fluids of the cafeteria's tables on a tray. She jumped and kicked Pyrrha back.

Ren and Nora now charged forward in Pyrrha's place. Ruby spun back and deferred to Weiss. She spun forward daintily and squirted the floor in copious amounts of ketchup. Ren slipped and slid into a cluster of tables. Nora however jumped into the air and grabbed a flag post from the top of the cafeteria's wall. She snapped it off and upon hitting the ground, embedded the end in another melon.

Nora did an impressive flourish and smacked the melon hammer into the ground. The force of the blow knocked Ruby back. Weiss had dodged it and picked up a frozen swordfish by the tail. While not a practitioner of the Xiphias Gladiae arts, Weiss found the fish to be about the right length, weight, and handling of her Myrtenaster. She engaged Nora in savage combat, but her Xiphiidae rapier let her down not being able to match the sheer brutality of Nora's Cucurbitaceae hammer. She delivered a crushing blow to Weiss' abdomen and knocked her all the way back to the other end of the cafeteria.

Weiss hit a pillar and shattered it. As she fell unconscious, Ruby leapt and caught her saving her from the pillar's collapse.

"Weiss?! Weiss! Don't leave me!" But seeing no reaction from the Ice Queen, Ruby couldn't stop a lament from escaping her lungs.

Meanwhile, Yang and Ren were back in the fight going at each other. Yang was armed with her Iron Turkey Fists and Ren with his Fresh Leek Kali Sticks. Being fast as lightning and with expert timing, the two fighters showcased their martial art prowess against one another. Yang got the upper hand with a Turkey Hammerfist to Ren's head and followed it up with a Turkey Uppercut launching him into the air. Ren regained enough faculty to throw his leeks at Yang, but she dodged them jumping into the air herself and then meteored him straight into the ground.

As Yang landed though, Nora avenged Ren with a powerful upward sweep with her melon hammer. The force caught Yang full force destroying the melon and catapulting her up through the cafeteria's ceiling.

Disarmed of her hammer, Blake seized the advantage by lashing Nora with a Weiner Whip. Nora was knocked back into a grape soda machine breaking it open and releasing cans of soda all over the ground. She picked up a few and bombarded Blake with the refreshing and sweet taste of the vine.

Blake managed to dodge Nora's bombardment, but she couldn't dodge Pyrrha's unrelenting salvo of grape sodas driven by her magnetic semblance. Caught in the carbonated explosion, she was blasted back.

Having regained her composure and seen enough of her comrades fall in brutal battle, Ruby stood and faced the four fresh members of JNPR. They prepared themselves for whatever the tiny girl would do, but they received the shock of their lives when Ruby rushed at them maxing out her speedy semblance. As she became a blinding vortex of red, a vacuum was created in her wake picking up all the remnants of food that had been spent in battle.

Ruby rocketed past Team JNPR and they were caught in the vacuum. Ruby stopped before the cafeteria wall and JNPR slammed into it. Ruby backflipped away just as the tornado of food caught up with JNPR coating them in greasy, sticky, leftover victuals. Having suffered a consummate defeat, the only thing they could do was slide off the wall to the floor.

"I love these guys," said Sun. He looked over at Neptune who was covered in grape soda.

Just then, Glynda burst into the cafeteria growling. She waved her riding crop and in a complicated but sentient harmony, the tables of the cafeteria were all realigned in their proper places and the wasted food disposed of in their proper receptacles. Through grit teeth, Glynda warned both teams, "Children! Please! Do not play with your food."

The damage done and pain subsided, both teams felt ashamed of themselves in their stained uniforms. Suddenly, Yang fell back through the cafeteria roof and shattered the tension of the moment. Both teams erupted into laughter. Glynda let out an exasperated sigh.

"Let it go," advised Ozpin, materializing at her side.

Glynda reluctantly relaxed. "They're supposed to be the defenders of the world."

"And they will be. But right now, they're still children. So why not let them play the part? After all, it isn't a role they'll have forever."


	3. Stave III

Ozpin woke with a start. He was surprised to find himself in bed. Then the previous visions of the evening struck him, but he couldn't tell if they were dreams, manifestations of his imagination, or if they had been real. Thinking it best not to dwell on them too intently, he laid his head back down and tried to fall asleep again until he heard the church bell ring twice. "'Expect the second when the bell tolls two'," he quoted Ironwood.

Suddenly there was a shining light from across the room. Ozpin lifted his head and looked at the door across from his bed. Lights danced from underneath it and through the door itself. He then heard jolly laughter. "Oh-ho!"

More out of fright than curiosity, Ozpin rose and went to the door. Just as he was about to turn the key to lock it, a voice bid him by name to enter lest he wanted to be fetched in person. With a shaking hand, Ozpin grabbed the knob and gave it a turn, but when he opened it, he was amazed at the wonders he saw.

It was his own room; there was no doubt about that, but it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were draped with living green from which bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as if many little mirrors had been scattered throughout the room, and there was such a mighty blaze roaring up the chimney unlike any there had ever been before. Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, great joints of meat, suckling pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince pies, plum puddings, cherry red apples, juicy oranges, immense cakes, and seething bowls of punch. Atop the throne was a jolly giant with grey hair, a moustache, and beard with not such a little, round belly but a portly belly. In one hand, he held a weapon that was a blunderbuss musket on one end and a double bitted axe on the other, while in his other hand, he bore a glowing torch in the shape of Plenty's horn. He held it up high to shed its light on Ozpin as he came peeping round the door.

"Oh-ho! Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in, and know me better, man!"

Ozpin entered timidly, still shaking. He kept his gaze low and tried not to meet the spirit's, but Ozpin had taken notice that the spirit's eyes weren't immediately visible.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. "Look upon me."

Ozpin did so slowly.

"You have never seen the likes of me before?"

"Never."

"Have you never sought out and met my brothers?"

"I don't think I have," said Ozpin. "Have you had many?"

"Oh, just more than eighteen hundred."

"Eighteen hundred? Quite a tremendous family to provide for."

The Ghost of Christmas Present rose with a chuckle.

"Spirit," said Ozpin submissively. "Conduct me where you will. I went forth earlier on compulsion, and I learned a lesson which is working now. Tonight, if you have something to teach me, let me profit by it."

"Teach?! Why, if I could will myself mortal, I would be a professor," said the Spirit. "But enough of that. There is much to see. Touch the hem of my robe."

Ozpin did as he was told and seized the edge of the Spirit's red robe. They were conducted away from Ozpin's room and down into the streets of Vale. The sun was high in the sky and people were bustling about in their finest clothes and highest spirits wishing the day's best to each other. Some cluttered the streets with joy, singing carols while children threw snowballs at one another in good humor.

The Spirit and Ozpin happened upon a market where although it was busy, the people were courteous to each other like they had never been on any other such day. Ozpin noted that he had never heard the market sound so joyful. Even the jingling of coins and ringing of scales against the countertops sounded all the cheerier.

As Ozpin and the Spirit waded through the people, the Spirit would pause to pinch the flames of his torch and sprinkle a flavor upon the people's food as they carried it about.

"Is there a particular flavor in what you sprinkle from your torch?" asked Ozpin.

"Oh-ho! There is. My own."

"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?"

"To any kindly and lovingly given. But to a poor one most."

"Why?"

"Because it needs it most. Come!" said the Ghost, placing a hand on his shoulder. He led Ozpin down the street to a handsome home wherein they walked straight through the wall into a room brightly lit, gleaming, and warmly furnished. Men stood next to high back chairs where their wives sat, sipping tea, and all faced a man standing at the hearth.

It was a great surprise to Ozpin to hear the man have a familiar laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Ozpin when he recognized the man as his nephew who the Spirit smiled at with approving affability.

"He said that Christmas was a humbug. As I live," cried Qrow. "He believed it too."

"Then all the more shame on him," said Ozpin's niece, Winter, indignantly.

She was very pretty; exceedingly pretty. She had snow white hair tied into a tight bun with a single curled tress dangling next to her left ear. She had blue eyes and a fair complexion with a stately face; she looked as if she had never known any stress or drink in her life. And as she sat on a stool, sipping tea, she sat regally with her back impossibly straight and one long leg crossed over the other. It was actually a shock to Ozpin that his messy, alcoholic nephew could court a woman of such noble bearing. She was more akin an Atlesian soldier than a drunkard's wife.

"He's a comical fellow," said Qrow. "That's the truth. And as unpleasant as he is, I have nothing to say against him."

"At least he is blessed with a miser's fortune," replied Winter.

"What of that, my dear? His wealth is of no use to him. He doesn't do any good with it. He doesn't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't even the satisfaction of thinking that he is ever going to benefit us with it," chuckled Qrow.

"How is it that you're able to stand him, Qrow?" asked one of the huntsmen present.

"Truly, I feel sorry for him; he who suffers by his own ill whims. He takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the consequence? He didn't lose much of a lunch."

"I think he lost a very good lunch," quipped Winter. Everybody else said the same.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. But the consequence is much more severe than that. In taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, I think, a great loss of some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can ever hope to find in his own thoughts, whether in his moldy old office or his dusty chambers.

"He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can't think worse of me—I defy him to—if he finds me going to his office, in good temper, year after year, and saying, 'Uncle Ozpin, how are you?' And if it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty lien, that's something. And I think I shook him yesterday."

Ozpin balked. "Surely you jest, nephew. I was neither shaken nor stirred. Humbug."

But despite his words, Ozpin found himself thinking at least a little bit better of his nephew. He had always been of the mind that his nephew enjoyed bothering him once a year to wish the spirit of the season upon him, or he only did it in duty to the memory of his mother. But if Qrow truly meant what he said, then it was more than Fan's memory that propelled Qrow, but Fan's adoring spirit.

"All right, that's enough," said Winter, standing. "I refuse to have my Christmas haunted by Uncle Ozpin. So let's have some music and then some games."

Following Winter's directive, they cleared away their tea and proceeded with the music. They were a musical bunch, and sung well the old glees and catches. Winter played the harp and among the many songs she knew, there was one piece that Ozpin remembered from the dances at Ooziwig's. Those fond memories of Christmases shown to him by the Ghost of Christmas Past further softened his disposition and he found himself wishing all the more he had not surrendered Pyrrha.

But when Winter plucked the last string, Ozpin's reverie was gone and he returned to the present.

"Where did you venture off?" asked the Spirit heartily.

"Hmm."

"I saw it in your eyes. You were far from here. Dwelling amongst other ghosts were you?" said the Ghost, smiling.

"I was just… It doesn't matter."

"Oh-ho!" smiled the Ghost. "Well, we have lingered here long enough. Come, there is much to see."

Ozpin and the Ghost headed for the door when a voice rang out, "Hey-ho, Winter! That was lovely, but I was promised games, and by gods, I'm going to get one." Many people laughed at the simple demand.

Ozpin stopped. "A game? I wonder which they'll choose."

"Very well," said Winter. "Qrow, why don't you start us off with a game of Yes and No. He always picks the most delightful subjects."

"I love Yes and No," said Ozpin. "I was great at it when I was a young man." Ozpin turned to the Ghost. "May we stay for one game, Spirit? Only one?"

The Spirit chuckled. "Good to see you in such fine spirits! But, yes, _only_ one. We still have much to see."

"Very well, my dear," said Qrow. "Now, for those of you who have been living under Mountain Glenn, the rules of Yes and No are simple. I'll think of an object, person, or thing, and you have to guess what it is, but I can only answer with either yes or no."

"Think up a good one, Qrow," encouraged Winter.

"Will do, my dear." Qrow looked up to the ceiling and was silent for a moment. Suddenly, he chuckled to himself. "All right, I've got one. You may begin."

Qrow was beset by a brisk fire of questioning from which it was elicited that he was thinking of a live, rather disagreeable animal, which growled and grunted sometimes, lived in Vale, stalked the streets, wasn't from Menagerie, was never killed in a market, and was never any sort of Grimm.

At every fresh question that was put to him, Qrow had to stop himself from bursting into a fresh roar of laughter. The ones about the Grimm especially tickled him for if Qrow's animal could be hunted, it would be hunted more passionately than any Beowolf on Remnant.

At last, Winter, who had been silent for a while now, stifled a snicker. "I know what it is, Qrow."

"Go on, my dear."

"Well, if it can't be my own father, then it must be your Uncle Ozpin!"

Qrow burst into laughter. "You're right!"

"Excellent choice!" congratulated one huntsman.

"I still think it should've been the Beowolf," said another.

"What can I say," said Qrow with a shrug. "He has given us plenty of merriment, and I am sure that it would be ungrateful to not drink to his health." Qrow lifted his flask. "To Uncle Ozpin."

"Uncle Ozpin," chimed the rest with their glasses raised.

"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is. He wouldn't take it from me, but he may have it, nevertheless. Uncle Ozpin!"

Ozpin had imperceptibly become so light of heart, that he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, but the Ghost hadn't given him time. The whole scene passed off in darkness at the breath of the last word spoken by his nephew.

A new vision came into view of a snow covered cottage in the middle of a wide clearing somewhere out in the middle of the woods.

"Spirit," said Ozpin. "Where are we?"

"The island of Patch."

"And what chore brings us?"

"It's Christmas here too, you know. And there," said the Spirit, pointing, "is the dwelling of one Taiyang Cratchit, Esquire, whose family owes their good fortune and Christmas joy to the high principles and esteemed charity of his employer, Ebenezer Ozpin."

Ozpin took a long look at the cottage. It was a fine log cabin, large, well built and sufficiently impressive. "It is quite the handsome home," said Ozpin. "I didn't think Taiyang could afford such a home on his salary."

"Out here on Patch, property values are a tuppence compared to those in Vale."

"Did you say Patch? This is indeed quite a ways from the city. No wonder Taiyang is perpetually late. But even for Patch, this home is a palace."

"It might seem that way, but before you get any ideas of cutting your clerk's salary, perhaps you should look in the window and see things as they really are."

Ozpin did as was commended. He wiped the frost from one of the windows with his sleeve and looked through it. Inside he saw a home scarcely furnished, dark except for the few windows that let light in, and it was quite dusty. The few pieces of furniture that there were seemed old and rickety as if they could go any minute.

Ozpin wondered at the dinginess of the home when he spotted a woman in a white riding hood bustle around the kitchen counters, preparing a Christmas supper. She peeled potatoes and let them boil in water while she checked on a Christmas fowl in the oven and several saucepans on the stove. For such a diminutive woman, she moved quickly indeed.

"Is that Mrs. Cratchit?" asked Ozpin.

"It is," replied the Ghost. "That is Tai's wife, Summer."

"She has silver eyes…"

"That she does."

"Such a remarkable woman to take on so great a task by herself."

"She must be remarkable for she is a huntress."

Ozpin looked up at the Spirit in awe.

"She's one of the best on the island."

"Remarkable. I had heard the legends about silver eyed warriors, but I didn't think they were true. This must be how Taiyang affords a house like this. His wife supplements his income."

"Not just his wife."

Ozpin looked up at him confused again. Suddenly from around the bend in the forest came a girl with long golden locks and violet eyes, pushing a rusty, yellow motorcycle that had seen better days. She pushed the bike into a nearby shed and closed the door before rushing through the door of the cabin.

"Mom! I'm home!"

"It's about time, Yang," replied Summer. "I was afraid you'd miss surprising your father."

"I'm sorry. Bumblebee isn't what she used to be. Some trips she just can't make anymore."

"Well, never mind. It's almost your father's time. Hurry up and hide!"

Yang shook the snow and chill from her body before bounding up the stairs to the second story and hiding in a bedroom.

"Who was that young lady?" asked Ozpin.

"That was Tai's daughter, Yang."

"I didn't know Taiyang had a daughter."

"Not but one."

Ozpin looked at the Spirit all the more confused. But instead of getting an explanation, the Ghost looked up and away along the path leading to the home. Ozpin looked too and saw Tai approach with a young girl riding up on his shoulder and wearing a red riding hood. The two seemed happy as can be as they marched home through the slowly falling snow.

"I'm so hungry, Dad," said the girl with a smile.

"Me, too, Ruby. I hope your mother has supper ready as we get through the door."

"Ruby?" repeated Ozpin.

"Tai's youngest daughter, Tiny Ruby."

"Why does he carry her on his shoulder like that?"

As Tai and Ruby made it to the front door, Tai put Ruby on the ground gingerly. He held onto her shoulder as she pulled a giant, red metallic object from underneath her cape. It sprung open into a deadly design that made Ozpin recoil.

"Is that a scythe?!"

"It's also a gun!" replied the Spirit fondly.

"What is such an adorable little girl doing with such a dangerous weapon?!"

"It's her crutch."

"Crutch?"

Ozpin felt a tiny tinge of pity hit his heart when he saw the young girl hobble through the front door followed by her father.

"Mom! We're back!"

"It's about time you two," said Summer. "Supper's almost ready."

Tai closed the door and looked around. "Where's Yang?"

Summer's face fell. "She's not coming."

"Not coming!?" repeated Tai.

"What do you mean?" wailed Ruby. "It's Christmas!"

Suddenly there was a creek from the upstairs bedroom followed by a heavy footstep. Tai looked up and with a smile stretched from ear to ear, he threw a punch up at the air and it collided with a yellow metallic gauntlet. The two fists pushed off each other to the side, forcing Yang to one side and Tai to the other.

"Yang!" said Tai as she rebounded off the floor.

"Merry Christmas, Dad," she said, giving him a jolly hug.

"Yang!" cheered Ruby.

"Ruby!" said Yang. "Oh, how I've missed my baby sister!" she exclaimed, embracing Ruby in a grisly hug before lifting the young girl up oton her shoulders and gallivanting around the house.

Summer sidled up to her husband. "And how was little Ruby in church?"

"As good as gold and better. Somehow she gets so thoughtful, sitting by herself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. She told me, coming home, that she hoped the people saw her in church because she was a cripple, and it might be pleasant for them to remember upon Christmas Day those who fight to keep the kingdom safe and the sacrifices they're forced to make."

Tai's voice was tremulous when he told Summer this, and trembled all the more when he said that Tiny Ruby was growing stronger and heartier every day.

"Spirit," said Ozpin, "I am much confused by what I see."

"Ask your question then and I shall answer."

"You implied that Taiyang's income isn't just supplemented by his wife's. Tell me truly, is his oldest daughter also a huntress? Is that why she bears those shot-gauntlets?"

"Aye, indeed," replied the Spirit. "She has as much brawn as she does _beauty_ ," said the Spirit with a smile and a strange humor.

Suddenly, inside the cabin, Yang stopped laughing and smiling, and shivered.

Ruby looked down at her sister. "Yang? Is something the matter?"

"I just felt as if some lecherous gaze from an otherworldly place fell upon me and admired my figure in an ungentlemanly way."

Ruby cocked her head to one side. "What?"

Ozpin looked at the Ghost who cleared his throat and looked the other way.

"One more thing, Spirit," said Ozpin. "I can believe that Mrs. Cratchit and Tiny Ruby are related—the resemblance between them is uncanny, right down to their hair and clothes—but what of the oldest daughter? She takes much after Taiyang but is neither like her mother nor sister."

"Tai once had a wife before Summer. She was Yang's mother."

"What happened to her?"

"No one quite knows. She simply vanished one day and has never been seen or heard from since."

The mysterious disappearance of Tai's first wife disconcerted Ozpin greatly. How terrible it must have been for Tai to not know what could have happened to his first love. But Tai's great loss reminded Ozpin of his own and he began to feel a kinship with his clerk he had never felt before.

"All right, you two," said Summer to Ruby and Yang. "Sit down. Time for supper."

Yang listened to her mother and set Ruby down on her chair and sat down next to her. Tai sat at the head of the table as Summer served the Christmas goose, boiled potatoes, and apple sauce.

"Such a scant dinner," commented Ozpin. "Especially for a family of warriors."

"But very much appreciated," replied the Ghost. "It would be heresy to say otherwise."

The last thing Summer served was the roiling punch. Once everyone had their glass, Tai lifted his and toasted, "Mr. Ozpin. I give you Mr. Ozpin, the Founder of the Feast."

Both Summer and Yang's faces reddened, putting their glasses down.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Summer.

"Yeah, Dad," agreed Yang. "Are you trying to ruin our Christmas?"

Tai was shocked into silence.

"The Founder of the Feast, indeed," said Summer. "I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it."

"Summer, Yang," Tai pleaded. "It's Christmas Day."

"It has to be Christmas Day," continued Summer, "on which one drinks to the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, and unfeeling man as Mr. Ozpin."

"Well, now—"

"Yeah, Dad," interrupted Yang. "You know he is. Nobody knows it better than you. How long have you been working for him and he hasn't given you a raise yet, forcing Mom to risk her life and slay Grimm? Cruelly forcing me to take all the hunting jobs I can in Vale so far from home? And what about Ruby? Will there come a day when she'll have to help support this family, too?"

"But I want to help, Yang," replied Tiny Ruby.

"I know you do, sis. But you shouldn't be forced to."

"Now, now," said Tai. "I know Mr. Ozpin can be a little hard, but for the sake of Christmas, we should be thankful for all we have and for those who grant us the privilege of buying what we need." Tai raised his glass, waiting for his wife and daughter to do the same.

Summer sighed before lifting hers. "I'll drink to his health for your sake and the day's, but not for his. Long life to him. A very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."

"I'm sure he'll be very merry and very happy," mumbled Yang out of the corner of her mouth.

Tai's eye twinkled. "That being the case, Merry Christmas, my dears. And gods bless us!"

"Gods bless us. Every one!" said Ruby with an innocent smile.

"Such a remarkable child," said Ozpin. The child too had silver eyes which Ozpin knew would destine her to the life of a warrior. But how could she fight in her condition? "Spirit," said Ozpin, with an interest he had never felt before. "Tell me: is Tiny Ruby sick?"

"Oh-ho! What's this? Concern for the well-being of another?"

Ozpin's bottom lip trembled. "Will she die?"

The Spirit looked up and his eyes lost focus. "I see a vacant seat in the poor chimney corner, and a scythe without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered, none other of my race will find her here."

Ozpin rubbed his hands together nervously.

"But so what, then? If she's going to die, she had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."

Ozpin recoiled in shock to hear his own words quoted against him. He was overcome with penitence and grief. A single tear tracked down his face.

"Man," said the Ghost, looming large over Ozpin, "if human you be in heart, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered who the surplus is and where it is. Will you be the judge of who shall live and who shall die when it may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child?"

Ozpin bent before the Ghost's rebuke and trembling, cast his eyes upon the ground.

"Come," said the Ghost, again placing a hand on his shoulder. "There are more shadows to see."

The island of Patch drifted away into the darkness and was replaced by the burning of a bonfire far from any civilized place on Remnant. Around it were four huntsmen, sitting on logs and cradling their weapons. The Ghost plucked another flame from his torch and sprinkled it on the nearest huntsman. Finding a new spirit, he pulled out a flute and began playing a Christmas carol. It took several bars, but soon his fellows began singing along with his tune. Ozpin became aware of dozens of red eyes glaring at the four huntsmen. Their low growls could be heard just over the flute, but as the men sang, their spirits gained strength. Filled with the season's tidings, they all rose and likewise lifted their voices up to the night sky to give thanks and praise on this Christmas night.

As their song drifted over the country side, Ozpin saw many similar gatherings, from Anima to Menagerie, from Vale to Atlas. There were many bonfires, many huntsmen far from home who had naught but each other for company. Though peril surrounded them, they became cheerful as the Spirit visited them. Even when their songs had ended, their joy was still present, forcing the Grimm to retreat as if they were afraid to contract some disease.

Ozpin recognized many of the huntsmen as being those in his employ, and he was surprised to find them capable of indulging in the spirit of the season. They were struggling, desperate men, but they were patient for their greater hope, and in it, in misery's great refuge, they found themselves very rich indeed.

The night was long, as if it could only be one night. Ozpin doubted it could be as the holiday appeared to be condensed into the time he passed with the Ghost. It was strange to him as well that while Ozpin remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older. Ozpin did not comment until they found themselves in a churchyard.

"Are spirits' lives so short?" asked Ozpin.

"Oh-ho! My life upon this globe is very brief. It ends tonight at the stroke of midnight."

Ozpin looked up at the church as the great bell began tolling. "Must you go? I've learned so much."

"There is never enough time in the world to do all that we should. All we can do is do what good we can with the time we are allotted."

Ozpin sought for something to say, something to keep the Ghost rooted to the world, but as he looked at the ground, something caught his eye. "Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Ozpin, looking intently at the Spirit's robe. "But I see something strange, not belonging to yourself, protruding from your robe. Is it a foot… or a claw?"

"It might be a claw for all the flesh there is upon it," said the Spirit. "Behold!"

The Spirit opened his robes and there within its folding were two children; wretched, abject, frightened, and miserable. They knelt down at the Spirit's feet, clinging to his robes.

The children were a boy and a girl. The boy was in green with dark hair and looked descended from Anima, but the girl looked descended from Vale with faded orange hair, bearing pink tatters. But despite their differing clothing, they were both yellow, meager, ragged, and wolfish. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out and touched them with fresh tints, a stale and shriveled hand, like that of age, had pinched and twisted them and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacingly. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has ever spawned monsters half so horrible and dread.

Ozpin stared at them, appalled. "Spirit. Are they yours?"

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. The boy is Ignorance. The girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy for written on his brow I see Doom.

"Deny it!" cried the Spirit, looking to the city of Vale. "Slander those who tell you; admit it for your factious purposes, and you will bear witness to your just punishment."

"Have they no refuge or resource?" cried Ozpin.

"Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. "Are there no workhouses?"

Ozpin felt a chill shoot down his spine, but before he could compose a response, the bell stroke twelve and suddenly, Ozpin could no longer see the Ghost or the wretched children he bore.

He turned about in the churchyard and recalled Ironwood's last prediction that the third spectre would appear in her own time. "Her own time." Those three words spooked Ozpin worse than any he had heard that night for he knew not their meaning. But as he ruminated upon them, a circular red and black energy appeared before him and out stepped the dread phantom.

 _A RWBY Christmas Carol is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC._


	4. Stave IV

The Phantom slowly, gravely, and silently approached, scattering gloom and mystery.

It was adorned in a red and black eastern robe and adorned with a red sash the likes of which Ozpin had never seen before. Rather scandalously, below the robe the Spirit wore a short black skirt displaying the shapely upper legs of a female before being encased in a tall dark boot. But it was not the reveal of skin that bothered Ozpin most, but rather the headdress it wore. Upon its head was a helmet that looked much like a Grimm's skull and flowing out the back of it was what appeared to be long, spiky, and unkempt black hair. Finally, the Ghost bore a long, curved eastern sword in a revolving sheathe full of Heaven's knew what, but Ozpin thought they may have been Dust blades.

Its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread, forcing him to kneel.

"Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" asked Ozpin.

The Spirit answered not, but inclined its head as if to nod.

"You are to show me the shadows of the things that have not happened, but may happen in the time before us?"

The Spirit nodded again. Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Ozpin feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. It thrilled him with a vague horror that behind the piercing red eyes of the helmet, there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him.

"Ghost of the Future… I fear you more than any spectre I have seen tonight. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, I am prepared to bear your company."

The Spirit said naught, but instead regarded him thoughtfully.

"Will you not speak to me?!"

It gave him no reply, but it did draw out a sword and cut the air before them generating another portal of red and black energy.

"The night is waning fast and time is precious to me. Lead on, Spirit! Lead on!"

The Phantom moved away as it had come toward him, and Ozpin followed in its berth.

They scarcely had exited the portal when the city had encompassed them of its own act. Ozpin knew the street well they were on for it was the business district of Vale. Merchants and bankers hurried up and down, exchanged lien, conversed in groups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with their proceedings as Ozpin had seen them do so often.

The Spirit stopped beside one knot of business men. Observing that its hand was pointed to them, Ozpin advanced to listen to their talk and immediately recognized them as some of his former business associates. Among them were Adam Taurus, Hazel Rainart, Arthur Watts, and Jacques Schnee.

"No," said Watts. "I don't know much about it, either way. I only know he's dead."

"When did he die?" inquired Hazel.

"Last night, I believe."

"Why, what was the matter with him?" asked Jacques.

"Gods know," said Watts.

"I thought he'd never die," said Hazel with an affirming smile.

"What has he done with his money?" asked Adam.

"I haven't heard," replied Watts. "Left it to his company, I imagine."

"He could've left with me," suggested Jacques.

This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.

"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral," said Hazel. "I don't know of anybody who would go to it."

"I don't mind going if lunch is provided," said Adam.

Another laugh.

"Well, I am the most disinterested among you," said Watts. "Yes, even you Hazel. As you know, I never wear black gloves, and I never eat lunch."

Jacques grunted. "I'll offer to go, if anybody else will. But come to think of it, I'm not at all sure that I wasn't his most particular friend for we used to stop and speak whenever we met."

The others grunted, and then the four men bid each other good morning before dispersing.

Ozpin was at first surprised that the Spirit should attach importance to a conversation so trivial. But feeling assured that it must have had some hidden purpose, he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. It could scarcely be supposed to have any bearing on the death of Ironwood for that was past and this Ghost's province was the future. Nor could he think of any one immediately connected with himself. But not doubting that it had some latent moral for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure every word he heard. It was also Ozpin's hope to observe the shadow of himself when it appeared for he had expected that the conduct of his future self would give him the clue he missed.

The Spirit stepped away and bid Ozpin to follow it. They left the busy scene and went into an obscure part of the town where Ozpin had never been before, although he recognized its situation and bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow, the shops and houses wretched, and the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, and ugly. Alleys and archways disgorged their offending smells, dirt, and life upon the straggling streets and the whole quarter reeked of crime, filth, and misery.

Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed, beetling shop where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and greasy offal were bought. Upon the floor within were piles of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse iron of all kinds. Sitting in among the wares he dealt by a charcoal stove made of old bricks was a man in his apparent thirties, smoking a cigar in all the luxury of calm retirement. He wore an unfittingly clean white coat with long black gloves. Adorning his head was a black bowler that sat comfortably upon his bright orange hair which was slicked over his right eye. Beside him sat his ever constant and perpetually silent companion; a young lady that had she been found on the street proper, she would've been the fitting target for many young men and their adoring woos. But here among the dank and filth, dressed in a trinity of garish colors which also adorned her hair and the parasol she twisted in her fingers, no man would've mistaken her for an adorable lady or blushing virgin. A lopsided smirk gave away her true affiliation despite her company and surroundings.

Ozpin and the Phantom came into their presence just as a woman in a red dress with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But she had scarcely entered, when another woman, much younger and with lime green hair, similarly laden, came in too. She was closely followed by a young man in shirt of faded black and grey. The three of them looked at each other in astonishment before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

"First the charwoman," commented the girl in red. "Then the laundress and finally the undertaker. Look at that, Roman," she said, addressing the man in the bowler. "We're all here at once by chance."

"You couldn't have met in a better place," said Roman, removing his cigar from his mouth. "Come into the parlor. None of you are strangers here. Neo," said Roman, speaking to the girl beside him, "shut the door."

Neo nodded once and bounded up with utmost glee. She shut the door to the shop and bolted it shut while Roman took the other three into the parlor, which was nothing more than a space behind a screen of old rags. Roman threw a fire crystal into the fireplace and shot it with the end of his cane. The logs burst into flame and chased the chill from the room, but it was none the cheerier.

While he did this, the woman in the red dress threw her bundle on the floor, and sat down in a flaunting manner on a stool, crossing her elbows on her knees and looking with a confident defiance at the other two.

"Something the matter, Emerald?" asked the woman. "Every person has a right to take care of himself. _He_ always did."

"You don't need to tell me, Cinder. No man more so than himself."

"Why do you look at me like that then as if you know better? We're all wretched in this manner. Right?"

"Yeah," said Emerald with a shrug.

"Oh, yeah?" said the man. "But which of us is the most wretched?" he said with a smile.

Cinder smirked. "Oh? Is that your scheme, Mercury? Tell me: who's worse off for the loss of a few things like these? Certainly not a dead man. If he wanted to keep them after he died, the wicked old screw, why wasn't he kinder in his lifetime? If he had been, maybe he would have had somebody to look after him when death came calling."

"Too true," agreed Emerald. "'Tis his own punishment."

"I wish it was a little worse. It should have been, if only I could have grabbed more. Open that bundle, Roman, and tell me what it's worth."

But the gallantry of Cinder's friends would not allow of this. Mercury produced his plunder first just for spite. It was not extensive: a seal or two, a pencil case, a pair of sleeve-buttons, and a brooch of no great value. They were examined and appraised by Roman, who chalked the sums he was disposed to give for each upon the wall and added them up into a total when he found there was nothing more to come.

"That's your account," said Roman. "And I wouldn't give another lien even if it meant being imprisoned on Mantle. Who's next?"

Emerald was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing apparel, two old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wall in the same manner.

"I always give too much to girls. It's a weakness of mine, and that's how I ruin myself," said Roman. "That's your account. If you ask for another lien, I'll repent of being so liberal and knock off a dozen."

"And now undo my bundle, Roman," said Cinder.

Roman unfastened a great many knots, and dragged out a large and heavy roll of some dark material."What are these? Bed curtains?"

"Why, yes," said Cinder with a poisonous smile. "Bed curtains."

"Don't tell me you took them down, rings and all, with him lying there?"

Cinder's lips curled further. "So what if I did?"

"You were born to make your fortune," commented Roman. "I'd hate to get in the way of that."

"I should certainly hope so, Roman. I won't stay my hand when I can get anything I want by reaching out and taking it. Especially when it comes to a man like this."

Roman grunted. "And what are these? His blankets?"

"Whose else's would they be? He isn't likely to catch a cold without them, I dare say."

"Well, I hope he didn't die of anything catching."

"Don't be afraid of that. I wasn't so fond of his company that I'd loiter about him for such things if he did. And you may look through that shirt till your eyes ache, but you won't find a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a fine one too. They'd have wasted it if it hadn't been for me."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Roman, eyeing her up.

"Somebody was fool enough to put it on him to be buried in!" said Cinder, cackling. "As if calico isn't good enough for such a purpose. It's more becoming of his body. He couldn't possibly get any uglier anyway."

Ozpin listened on in horror. As they sat grouped about their spoil in the scanty light, he viewed them with a detestation and disgust, which could hardly have been greater.

"This is how it ends for him," continued Cinder. "He frightened every one away from him when he was alive."

"So he could profit us when he was dead," finished Mercury. They both shared a laugh.

"Spirit," said Ozpin, shuddering from head to foot. "I understand. The case of this unhappy man might be my own as my life tends that way now." Growing weary of the cackling behind him, Ozpin pleaded with the Spectre. "These horrible cretins! Preying on a defenseless man's plight! Please, Spirit; tell me this future still has some tenderness in it. Surely, not the whole of Remnant is as unfeeling as this at a person's death."

The Ghost drew her katana and sliced the air, producing another portal. The Spirit conducted Ozpin through it and he found himself in a familiar location.

"Ah! The island of Patch! Taiyang's home." But as Ozpin walked to the window, he stopped. He couldn't help but shake the eerily still silence around him. When he had been on Patch before, it seemed like a happy, warm, and noisy place, but now it seemed rather distant and quiet.

Ozpin looked through the window and spotted Summer and Yang in the house together, sitting near the fireplace. Ozpin looked to the kitchen and noticed that Christmas supper was indeed being cooked, but it wasn't being attended to with Summer's past haste. Summer suddenly put a hand to her face.

"The light of the fire hurts my eyes," she said. "It makes them weak, and I wouldn't want to show weak eyes to your father when he comes home. It must be near his time."

"Past it rather," commented Yang, staring into the void. "But I think he's walked a little slower than he used to."

They were quiet again. At last, Summer said in a steady, cheerful voice, that only faltered once, "I have known your father—I have known him to walk very fast indeed with Tiny Ruby upon his shoulder. But she was very light to carry."

Ozpin looked to the Ghost. "Where is Tiny Ruby?"

The Ghost pointed to a corner near the fireplace where a vacant seat and a scythe without an owner leaned against the wall. Both were carefully preserved.

"Oh, no," wailed Ozpin. "Tell me it isn't true, Spirit. Tell me it isn't true."

Ozpin heard slow steps behind him and up ambled Taiyang, looking all the more haggard and tired than usual.

"Here's your father, now," said Summer as he entered.

"Dad," said Yang somberly. She approached her father and gave him a long embrace around the middle. Tai leaned his chin on her head and welcomed the sorrowful embrace from his now only child.

Summer sidled up, sniffing. "Yang. Could you do me a favor and set the table?"

Yang relinquished her father and did as she was told.

"You went today, didn't you, Tai?"

"I did," he replied. "I wish you could have gone. It would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But you'll see it often. I promised her that I would walk there on Sunday. My little, little child," cried Tai. "My little child."

He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could have helped it, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they were.

Tai dried his eyes and took his seat at the table. "On my way home, I met Mr. Ozpin's nephew, Qrow. He noticed that I looked a little down and inquired about what had happened. I told him. He said he was heartily sorry for it, and sorry for my wife and my older daughter. He gave me his card and said that if he could be of any service, I should go to see him for the sake of anything he might be able to do for us. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Ruby, and felt with us."

"I'm sure he's a good soul," said Summer.

"You would be certain of it, my dear, if you saw and spoke to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he could get Yang a better position."

"Hear that, Yang?"

"I heard it," said Yang with a weak smile. "It's just…" Yang paused to wipe the bottom of her eye. "I don't want to be away from the family right now."

"I understand," said Tai. "But despite our grieving, life goes on. Even still though, there's plenty of time for life. And however or whenever we part from one another, I am sure that none of us will forget poor Tiny Ruby.

"And I know that when we recollect how patient and how mild she was, although she was a little, little child, we shall not quarrel among ourselves, and forget Tiny Ruby in doing it."

"No," said Yang.

"We shan't," Summer finished.

Tai wiped his eyes. "I am happy, then. Very, very happy, indeed."

"Spectre," said Ozpin, turning from the window. "Something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not how. But before we part, I must know, the man being discussed in the business district, and the man, the abysmal wretch who brought those even more wretched ghouls such profit, they are one and the same man, are they not, Spirit?"

The Ghost gave no answer, but Ozpin still shivered.

"I must know, Spirit; who was the man who died?"

The Ghost drew her katana again and opened another portal. They walked through it and Ozpin was not wholly surprised, but still chilled, to find himself once again in a churchyard surrounded by graves.

The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to one. Here Ozpin would learn the name of the wretch he had asked about, the same man who now lay beneath the ground.

He advanced toward it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.

"Before I draw nearer to that grave," said Ozpin, "answer me one question: are these the shadows of the things that will be or are they shadows of things that may be only?"

The Ghost made no answer and continued to point down at the grave by which it stood.

"Men's courses foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," reasoned Ozpin, trembling as he approached. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Isn't that right, Spirit?"

The Spirit was as immovable as ever.

Ozpin crept toward it, shaking. He followed the finger and read upon the neglected grave his own name: Ebenezer Ozpin.

"Am I that man who was discussed on the street and whose possessions were pillaged?" he cried, upon his knees.

The finger pointed from the grave to him and back again.

"No, Spirit. Oh, no, no. Spirit!" he cried, clutching her robe. "Hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man who ends here. Why show me this if I am past all hope?"

For the first time, the hand appeared to shake.

"Good Spirit," he pursued, groveling before it. "Your nature intercedes for me and pities me. Assure me that I may change these shadows you have shown me by an altered life."

The hand trembled.

"I will honor Christmas in my heart and keep it all the year. I will live in the past, the present, and the future. The Spirits of all three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"

In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but he was strong in his entreaty and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him.

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate aye reversed, the Phantom drew its sword and slashed across his torso. A portal opened up behind Ozpin and drew him downward.

 _A RWBY Christmas Carol is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC._


	5. Stave V

Ozpin fell backward through the portal and landed on something soft. He was surprised at first, but as he looked around, he realized where he was. "They are not torn down," he cried, folding one of his bed curtains in his arms. "They are not torn down, rings and all. They are here." For indeed, the bed was his own and the room was his own.

"And I'm here," he said. But the best and happiest of all thoughts was that the time before him to make amends was his own. "The shadows of the things that would have been may be dispelled. They will be! I know they will."

"I will live in the past, the present, and the future," Ozpin said as he scrambled out of bed. "The spirits of all three shall strive within me. Oh, Jacob Ironwood. Heaven and Christmas be praised for this. I say it on my knees, old Ironwood, on my knees!"

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions that his broken voice would scarcely answer his call.

Ozpin stood and staggered about his room. "I don't know what to do," he said, laughing and crying in the same breath. "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry Christmas to everybody, and a Happy New Year to all of Remnant!"

He frisked into the sitting room, and went all around it, observing the objects and remembering the events from the night before. "There's the pot that the hot chocolate was in. And there's the door by which the ghost of Jacob Ironwood entered. There's the corner where the Ghost of Christmas Present sat. And there's the window where I saw the wandering spirits. It's all right, it's all true, it all happened." Ozpin laughed, and for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was a splendid laugh.

"I don't know what day of the month it is. I don't know how long I've been among the spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby."

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. There was no fog or mist. It was simply a clear, bright, and cold day. The sunlight was golden, the sky heavenly, the fresh air sweet, and from the nearby church, he heard the glorious ringing of bells.

Ozpin looked down into the street. "Hallo!" he cried at a girl building a snowman. "Hallo!"

The girl looked up. Ozpin thought she was rather cute with her short, orange curly hair, her pink bow, and freckled face, but her lime green eyes didn't seem wholly organic.

"Hallo, my fine girl!" cried Ozpin.

"Sal-u-tations!" returned the girl.

"What's today?"

"Huh?" returned the girl with all her wonder.

"What's today, my fine lady?"

"Today? Why, it's Christmas Day, of course!"

"It's Christmas Day," said Ozpin. "I haven't missed it. The spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course, they can. Of course, they can."

"I don't know who the spirits are," said the girl, "but of course they can," she said with a nod.

"Tell me, girl: do you know poulterer's in the next street but one?"

"I should hope I did."

"A remarkable lass. An intelligent lass. Do you know whether they've sold the prize turkey? Not the little one, but the big one."

"What? The one as big as me?"

"What a delightful girl," said Ozpin. "Such a pleasure to talk to. Yes, my dear."

"It's still there."

"Is it? Go and buy it."

The girl recoiled. "Walk-er!" she said, waving her hand dismissively at him.

"No, no," said Ozpin. "I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell them to bring it here. Come back with the poulterer, and I'll give you ten lien. Come back with him in less than five minutes and I'll give you fifty!"

The girl's eyes lit up and a strange metallic object shot out from her back before extending and then multiplying into several copies. Tiny holes opened at the end of each one and green energy shot from them, propelling the girl off like a shot.

"I'll send it to Taiyang Cratchit's," said Ozpin, rubbing his hands. "He shan't know who sent it. It's twice the size of Tiny Ruby."

The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write it he did, and went downstairs to wait for the poulterer's man. As he stood there, waiting his arrival, the knocker caught his eye.

"I shall love it as long as I live," said Ozpin, patting it with his hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it has in its face. It's a wonderful knocker. Ah! Here's the turkey."

It was quite a turkey. It never could have stood upon its legs. They would have snapped off as soon as it tried.

"Now, I want you to take this turkey to Patch."

"Patch!?" said the poulterer's man.

Ozpin realized his mistake. "Why, it'd be impossible for you to carry that to Patch. You must take an airship," he said, slapping more lien into the man's hand. "And this is for you, my fine lady," he said, chuckling, as he paid the girl double what he originally promised her.

Ozpin went back inside and dressed himself in his best, which was an old emerald suit he hadn't had the pleasure of wearing for a while. He then went down to the streets which were now well crowded with people like he had seen when he went out with the Ghost of Christmas Present. He regarded every person with a delighted smile. Those who knew him regarded him with a wonder so strange, they couldn't believe to see the change in him. He was so pleasant and blithe that when he happened upon the monkey-tailed and cat-eared Faunus carolers from the night before, he wished them a stout Merry Christmas.

"It's that old, crusty miser from yesterday!" said the monkey-tailed one.

"Good morning, my boy!" replied Ozpin.

"He's lost his mind…"

The cat-eared girl was stunned into silence.

"Merry Christmas to you both!" he said, showering them with lien.

"Whoa!" said the boy.

"Th-thank you, sir!" said the girl.

"Think nothing of it! Just making up for my crass mistake."

"Merry Christmas," said the girl with a smile.

"Yeah, thanks," said the boy, counting the lien.

Ozpin nodded and continued on his way but he didn't go far before running into two others from the day before.

"Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Belladonna. How are you this morning? I hope you succeeded in your mission yesterday."

"Mr. Ozpin?" said Ghira, bewildered.

"Yes, that is my name, but I fear it may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness to accept…" Ozpin leaned forward and whispered to Ghira and Kali.

"Mr. Ozpin?!" said Kali.

"Gods bless me," cried Ghira, as if his breath were taken away.

"Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?"

"If you please," said Ozpin. "And not a lien less. A great many back payments are included in it, I assure you."

"My dear sir," said Ghira. "I don't know what to say to such munificence."

"Don't say anything please," replied Ozpin. "Just come and see me tomorrow, and we'll make the arrangements."

"We will," cried Kali.

"Thank you. I am much obliged to you. Thank you fifty times. Bless you both!"

Ozpin continued on his merry way through the streets. He watched the people hurrying to and fro, he patted children on the head, questioned beggars, looked down into the kitchens of houses, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk, or anything else for that matter, could give him so much happiness. And then finally, in the afternoon he turned his steps toward his nephew's house.

He passed the door a dozen times before he had the courage to go up and knock.

"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Ozpin to the servant girl.

"Yes, sir."

"Where is he, my love?"

"He's in the dining room, sir, along with mistress. I'll announce you."

"Thank you, no. That's not necessary. He knows me," said Ozpin with his hand already on the dining room knob. He turned it gently, and sidled his face in. Qrow, Winter, and their guests were looking at the table which was spread out in great array for the young housekeepers had gone to great lengths to make sure everything was perfect.

"Qrow," said Ozpin.

"Bless my soul," cried Qrow. "Uncle Ozpin?"

"Yes, it is I. I have come to dinner. Will you allow me to dine with you, Qrow?"

Let him in? It is a mercy Qrow didn't shake his arm off. Ozpin was quite at home in five minutes. Nothing could have been heartier. It was a wonderful party, with wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, and wonderful, wonderful happiness.

But Ozpin was early at the office the next morning. He wanted to be there first and catch Taiyang coming in late. That was something he had set his heart upon.

The clock struck nine and there was no Taiyang. A quarter past and there was still no Taiyang. He was a full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time when he did arrive. His hat was off before he entered. He was on his stool in a jiffy, and driving away with his pen as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock.

"Taiyang Cratchit!" growled Ozpin in his accustomed voice as near as he could feign it. "What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"

"I am very sorry, sir," said Tai. "I am behind my time."

"Indeed, you are. Step this way, sir, if you please."

"It's only once a year, sir," pleaded Tai, appearing in his office. "It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."

"Indeed. But, I'll tell you what, my friend," growled Ozpin. "I am not going to stand for this sort of thing any longer. And therefore," he continued, standing and looking as menacing as he could. Tai flinched. "I am going to raise your salary!"

Tai blinked disbelievingly. "Sir?"

Ozpin laughed. "A Merry Christmas, Tai!" he said with an earnestness that could not be mistaken as he clapped Tai on the back. "A merrier Christmas, Tai, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year. Yes, sir. I'll start by doubling your salary—"

"Double?!"

"And endeavor to assist your struggling family in any way I can! We'll get Tiny Ruby to the right doctors and we'll even fix up Yang's bike and get her a better position closer to home!"

"How do you know about Tiny Ruby's condition? And Yang's bike?! How do you know their names?!"

"And we will discuss all your affairs this very afternoon over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Tai."

"That's extraordinary, sir. But that doesn't answer my question."

"Never mind that! Make up the fires, man, and buy another coal scuttle before you dot another i, Tai!"

Ozpin was better than his word. He did it all and infinitely more. And Tiny Ruby, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city knew.

Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened for the sake of good at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset.

He had no further intercourse with spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle ever afterwards. And it was always said that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.

May that be truly said of all of us. And so, as Tiny Ruby observed, gods bless us, every one.

 _A RWBY Christmas Carol is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC._


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